Charade
by The Mominator
Summary: Sometimes in life someone comes along and gives you the one thing that you have always strived for, love. Before you click on the story I must warn you. A/U? Totally. B/A ship? Definitely. Bizarre? Yes. You have been warned, not for you please don't click
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Inspired by the novel 'Whirlpool' by Elizabeth Lowell.**

**Charade**

**One**

**August 2002**

The blast of cool air feels wonderful on his face as he enters the three star hotel. He strides through the lobby at an easy pace, he is tall and attractive but no one seems to notice this man of mystery. He holds his head high and keeps his focus straight ahead never glancing at the many people he passes on his way to the lounge. If anyone ever inquired about him, no one would be able to recall seeing him.

She sits at the end of the bar, her dark hair drapes on her shoulders and her dark eyes hide many a secret. She is tanner than usual though even in the dead of winter her skin has an olive tone to it. He finds himself staring. He has known her now for close to 20 years. She is sipping a clear colored beverage. _Vodka_, he smiles. _Some things never change_, he occupies a bar stool, not next to her but with one empty stool between.

The tall, tan and blond haired bartender notices him immediately. "What can I get for you Sir?" He asks as he wipes off the bar, with a damp towel.

Keeping his head down, never look in their eyes, "Glenlivet, one ice cube."

"Coming right up," the young man steps away to fulfill his task.

She turns her chair in his direction, "My ex-husband use to drink that," she takes a sip of her beverage, "Wonder if he still does."

He turns to face her, pointing at her glass, her empty glass, "Ready for another?"

She delicately removes her body from the seat and positions herself next to him, "Thank you." He takes her hand and helps her up onto the barstool, directly to his right. Smiling as she places the glass on top of the counter, "Thanks again, a gentlemen, I thought you all were a lost breed."

The bartender returns with his drink, he places a napkin down then the glass. "The lady needs a refill," he says keeping his focus on her and her alone.

"Sure," he answers immediately and removes her glass.

They keep their focus straight ahead, remaining silent. The bartender returns placing her vodka over ice before her. She nods her head as she says, "Thank you."

He picks up the glass before him, raising it to his lips, "We have a problem," he takes a sip. He lowers his head as he rubs his eyes, "He has a big shake down planned for this weekend," he lifts the red straw from the glass, "He is getting paranoid and he wants to clean house," he taps the straw on the side of the glass. "He is determined to have only a loyal few in on the big score, the final score."

"Final? Why?"

"Getting old, getting too old is all he keeps telling me." He replaces the straw in the glass.

"He trusts you that much?" she asks.

He nods his head slowly, "For the last few weeks he wants me by his side," he leans to his right, "And I mean by his side."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because aside from that I had nothing to tell you, till now," he exhales. "He trusts me but....he doesn't trust her and it seems that everyone has him doubting their loyalty. She along with a few others are going to be done away with."

"Was her cover blown?"

"No," he states flatly, "Victor is slowly losing his mind," he takes a long sip this time. "He could turn on anyone." He sits erect in the seat, moving his head to scan the room, "I can take care of him, if you agree."

"No!" she exclaims with an angry tone, then scans the lounge. The four other patrons didn't seem to hear or care. "Keep your head."

He raises the glass to his lips, "Don't I always?"

"Yes," her anger slowly fades, "We need him to get to the one at the top, when will that be?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know, Victor has something brewing," he taps his temple with his index finger. "In his head but he has kept quiet about where and when." He sets the glass on the bar, "I have to get her out of there."

"Seven months," she leans closer to him. "Seven months Bobby," she whispers. "You've been in on this, you make a move like that and they…."

"I can't just stand by and do nothing. I won't let her die," he grabs her arm. "I won't Angela." She exhales at his emotional display. He releases his hold immediately, this time they both scan the room, no one is interested in their conversation.

"Victor wants you to do it?" She asks surprisingly.

Shaking his head, "No, not me. I don't know who." He picks up the glass raising it to his lips, "Maybe I should volunteer, he already knows I've been sleeping with her." He takes a short sip.

"Not a good idea, you haven't shown him a side of you like that, he won't buy it." His last few words sink in, this time she grabs his arm, "You've been sleeping with her? Is that true or just a story for Victor?" His silence gives her the answer, "You're," her voice squeaks; she clears her throat speaking softly. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"I don't know, what is love?" he nervously taps his fingers on the bar. "I've never been in love before."

She frowns as she places her hand atop of his to quiet the tapping,"What about your daughters' mother?"

The conversation has turned personal and they can look at one another, "We were never in love, don't get me wrong she is a wonderful woman and we lived together for five years but love?" He shakes his head, "No. We never got married." He flashes a smile that causes Angela to smile, "Best thing we ever," he pauses. "Didn't do….we would have ended up hating each other."

She removes herself from the stool, "Room 82," she speaks softly so only he can hear, she leaves.

He doesn't follow her, he doesn't watch her, he remains. Picking up the glass that holds his beverage, he downs the remaining alcohol and orders another one. _Love, now I know what it is, it sucks_.

Never shown much love as a child it took the birth of his daughter to realize that you could care so much for another human being that it could make your heart ache from not seeing her. He sips his drink calculating the last time he saw his ten-year-old little girl, _eight months_, how is he any better than his absentee father. He missed her tenth birthday party, he sent a gift and called that day to make sure it arrived, she was thrilled at the gift and she was happy that he remembered. She tried not to make him feel bad that he wasn't there. He smiles as he removes her photo from his wallet. She has his eyes and coloring, her mother's smile and she is blessed with her mother's grace and beauty. He stares at the photo oblivious that someone has taken the stool next to him.

"She's beautiful," a familiar female voice, says, "Is she one for the taking?"

His first thought, pick up his glass and smash it against her head, "No…." he says sternly as he shakes his head. "She's my daughter."

Frowning, she replies, "No shit, I never knew that," she notices his sad expression, "Sorry, lover."

"Ginny," He turns his body to look at her, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Me?" she answers coyly. "What about you?" She calls to the bartender, "Hey handsome, I'm thirsty."

The young man can't help but smile, "Yes Ma'am."

He chuckles as he replaces the photo into his wallet, _Ma'am, that's debatable._

"Gin and tonic." The bartender offers a smile then turns away to fulfill his task. "What were we?" she pauses. "Oh yeah, I have a meeting with a client," she pats his arm. "I have forty five minutes to kill," she says harmoniously as she places her arm around his shoulder. "You know the ole saying if you got the money honey…" the bartender returns with her drink. "Thanks honey." She takes a quick sip, "It's been a long time." She states plainly.

Nodding his head, "Yes it has." Less than two years ago he would have taken her to the darkened part of this bar and without hesitation she would give him a blow job while he finished his drink, now the thought of it makes him feel ill.

"You look tense; I can ease some of that tension."

The offer is considered, then denied. "No thanks, I have some work to do." He picks up the glass, downing the rest of the liquid inside; he slaps a twenty on the bar. Removing himself from the stool, "Take care of yourself Ginny," he touches her shoulder, "Be careful."

She smiles, "I will lover," she pauses. "Take your own advice." She calls out to him. He raises his arm and offers a slight wave, never turning to face her.

He walks through the lounge and into the lobby at a slow, steady pace, always careful, not to draw attention to himself.

**That is all for now.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Two **

**June 2002**

**On the Steps of the **

**New York City Public Library**

The deceased female is discovered lying on her back. Her hands are lying on her stomach right over left. Her clothes are out of date, reminiscent of the sixties. She is dressed like that of a Sunday school teacher. Skirt below the knee, crisp white cotton blouse buttoned up to the neck and black pumps. The homicide detectives have been on the scene for close to ten minutes. Detective Michaels notices them, "Yes McDaniel it's one of yours." He pauses as he notices a new partner for the 18 year veteran of the NYPD, Eric McDaniel. He holds out his hand, "Patrick Michaels."

She takes his hand, "Alex Eames."

"Alex, huh? Alexis or Alexandra? Either way it is a beautiful name and so are you." Alex rolls her eyes as she steps away.

Eric taps his arm, "Maybe you should save that sweet talk," he pauses. "For your wife."

Michaels steps aside as Eric and Alex walk closer to the body. He watches with intensity, "No tears to her clothes, as you can see her hair has been recently done and," Alex says as she picks up the young woman's hand, "She has recently had a manicure."

"Cause of death?" he asks smugly as he crosses his arms in a defiant pose.

"You will find an injection site, she was given sodium thiopental, pancuroniom bromide and then potassium chloride."

Michaels looks down at the young woman, "Death by lethal injection, a painless death," he moves in closer, "Jesus why?"

"Good question." Eric kneels down next to the body. "Hopefully we can figure that out before he gets to number four."

**Medical Examiners Lab **

**April 2002 **

**Examination of victim number 1 **

Alex and Eric take a double take at the female lying on the table, "She's just a young girl." Alex says solemnly.

"Yes I would say maybe fifteen." Rodgers steps closer to the body. "Any luck with her ID?"

Alex answers continuing to gaze at the teen girl who met with death too soon, "No, no one is looking for her, she is not in the system."

"She may be an illegal alien." Eric states with authority.

"From the construction of her facial features, and coloring I would say she is European." Rodgers interjects. She walks around the table, "She is scrubbed clean, he bathed her, before or after he killed her I can't tell, no trauma to the body." Rodgers picks up the sheet and points to an injection site, "Cause of death," she pauses until she is sure that Alex and Eric have her full attention, "Death by lethal injection."

Alex takes a quick glance at her partner, "How odd."

"He cleans her, dresses her like a school teacher from the sixties then kills her." Eric states as he strolls slowly around the table never taking his eyes off the body. "He hated who she may become?" he asks as he catches his partner's eye.

Rodgers returns the sheet to its original position, "Her last meal consisted of Beetroot Borsch, Pelmeni with pork, Potatoes and syrniki a cheese pancake garnished with sour cream, honey and raisins." Alex frowns, "Don't look at me," Rodgers states defensively. "My new intern, Sylvia Sokolov was born in Russia; she was given a common Russian meal."

"So," Eric says, "She is Russian, or her killer."

**Major Case Squad**

**June 2002**

Just returning to the squad after yet another unidentified young woman has been found murdered, they are becoming numbers and she is number four.

_They were all between the ages of 15 and 18 all murdered somewhere else, their bodies are clean, scrubbed clean as if the murderer is trying to wash away filth that he alone sees. He has left them in public places owned or operated by the city, two on Ellis Island, one at the foot of the Statue of Liberty and one on the steps of the New York City Public library. _

"Who are they? Where are they from?" Alex answers her question, "Maybe Russia," she leans forward. "They had the same last meal." She rubs her forehead as if a headache is brewing. "No one is looking for them." She closes the folder and tosses it on her desk. "Why? Because no one knows they are missing or they don't care."

"Most illegal aliens come into this country because they have a family member here," Eric says as he intertwines his fingers and places them on the top of his desk. "Why aren't they looking for them? It's possible that they never got to their destination when they arrived here and if the family member is an illegal themselves they can't say anything."

"I agree," she nods her head as she mulls the thought in her mind, "Another question, face it Eric, we have no more clues than we did four weeks ago."

Eric blows out a lung full of air, "I know," he checks his watch. "Since we have nothing more to do today how about we bug out of here and get a drink." He stands, "My treat."

She nods her head as she speaks, "Good idea," she stands and puts her jacket on. She spies Deakins on the phone, he catches her glance and waves to her.

"Deakins wants us."

"What now? Shit." Eric's says as he follows Alex across the room.

Alex knocks on the door opening it at the same time; Deakins waves them in and points to the chairs that are in front of his desk. "Yes I understand," he pauses. "They are with me as we speak." He pauses listening intently to the caller, "Yes we will wait for her." He pauses again. "Yes Sir, we will be here." He cradles the phone, Alex and Eric are needless to say curious. Deakins sits back in the chair and tosses his pen onto the top of the desk, "That call," he points to the phone. "Someone from the FBI is coming in to discuss this case with us."

"Did you call the FBI?" Eric asks. He continues not waiting for a reply from his C.O. "Considering the only thing we know is that all four murders were committed by the same person or persons."

"No, she called the Chief of D's."

"She?" Alex asks. "Should I get….?"

Deakins cuts her off, "Your evidence," he shakes his head, "No it's not necessary."

She frowns, "Are they taking it away from us?"

"No," he states flatly. He stands and walks with a slow gate around the desk, "Alex, you have been chosen to work undercover," he sits on the edge of his desk, "Are you game?"

The knock on the door causes Deakins, Alex and Eric to turn their attention to the sound. Deakins opens the door and a tall brunette enters. She carriers herself with grace and elegance, no one would suspect that this woman is in the FBI. She holds out her hand, "Assistant Director, Angela Palermo." She first shakes Deakins hand then Eric's, then Alex's.

**That is all for now.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

**Room 82**

The crowd standing before the lobby elevator detours him to take the stairs, he exhales as he gazes at the sight before him. _Eight flights, shit Angela_. He walks at a slow pace, stopping off at each floor to check the elevator crowd, the fifth floor is clear and he rides the elevator the rest of the way. The hallway is empty and room 82 is suddenly before him. Two knocks and she opens the door.

He enters the room closing the door behind him, he examines the layout, "Nice room," he says as he gives her a quick wink.

"That Bobby," she turns her back to him. "Was a long time ago," she opens the mini bar.

He nods his head in agreement, as he pulls out the chair that sits next to the little round table, "Eons ago."

"Drink?" she asks as she holds up a mini bottle of vodka.

"No, no thanks," he gazes out the window; the view is less than spectacular. The sound of ice cubes being dropped into an empty glass cause him to turn his head, he watches her as she fills the smoke colored glass with vodka. He slouches in the chair, "Any reason you're drinking so much?" She ignores the question. "You seem nervous."

"I am," she takes a quick sip. "I'm worried."

He scrubs his face then leans his chin on his hand, "Worried? What the hell for?"

She stirs the ice cubes with her fingers, "What is going on with you?"

"Worried that I can't do my job?" he asks with an arrogant tone..

"That is not what I was thinking," she answers quickly.

He doesn't speak but she knows he is sorry for his snippety attitude. He sits up in the seat hoping it will give him courage, being in the company of ruthless people and danger is nothing compared to emoting his feelings. He rubs his forehead, "I'm tired Angela, I'm so tired of being someone else."

"It's almost over."

"Yeah, then I get to become another person," he says sarcastically as he stands and decides that a drink is a good idea. He examines the little bottles and settles for J&B. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

"You," she points her finger at him, "Are the best operative I've ever known."

"Was, Angela," he wags his finger at her, "Was, ten years ago." He drops an ice cube into the glass he has filled with scotch, "All these kids coming up."

"Kids?" She smirks not only for their energy and youth, she too is not getting any younger, "Arrogant kids, they don't have your style or intelligence."

"Yeah," he gulps down the alcohol and grimaces from the burn in his throat. He resumes the seat he recently vacated, "It wasn't planned, it just happened."

"You _are_ in love with her," she says smiling.

"Why are you smiling?"

"I'm not sure."

"The problem is, who is she in love with? Hell, she thinks I'm a criminal. At first, I thought she was just playing me, but I don't see her as the type to have sex with Victors bodyguard, to help her find her killer. There's nothing to gain in that."

"Don't you think that she'll be elated to find out that you are not a criminal but an undercover agent for the FBI?"

His boisterous laugh fills the room, "I never thought about that." He stands and immediately switches gears, "I have a great idea, Angela."

"What is that Bobby?"

"Let's empty out this bar, hell the feds will pay for it."

She smiles sweetly at this man that she has know for close to 20 years. Five years ago she became his boss and he welcomed her with enthusiasm and honor. Most of the agents that they broke in with were not that excepting. She watches him remove two bottle of alcohol from the mini bar. She has always been in awe of his ability to change his appearance like that of a chameleon, he always looks just right for what ever person he has to become. Not a drastic change for this job, however in his previous operation he wore his hair long and scraggly. He also decided that he should change the color and indeed he did, he went blond. He wore blue contacts and throughout the operation, that lasted six months, he gained twenty pounds. Today he looks very unassuming, his hair is curly, especially in this humid weather but it is trimmed nicely in proportion with his face, daily workouts and jogging every day turned him into the tall, trim and well built form she sees before her. She does chuckles to herself at the gold that shines from his ear. She watches him as he fills a glass with the mini bottle of J&B as she sits on the edge of the bed.

She crosses her legs propping the glass in her hand on her thigh. "Since when do you get out of control? That's not like you."

He moves toward her like a cougar, if she didn't know the man she would be in fear of him. He removes his wallet and with one quick motion he opens it removing the image of the beautiful little girl, "The last time I saw her she looked like this," he turns the picture in his direction as he stands erect, "Eight months, that was the last time I saw her."

"Go visit her tomorrow," she states plainly.

"For what?" he bellows, Angela moves back on the bed. "Pop in and then pop out, sorry honey but Daddy can only visit for an hour, because the scum of the earth is more important than you are," he runs his fingers through his hair, "Sorry." He rubs his forehead, "I'm sorry."

"So am I," Angela responds as he drops an ice cube into the glass he has filled with whiskey. He then takes a short sip.

"She's not going to be a little girl much longer." He resumes the seat at the little round table. He speaks needing to but not wanting to. "I missed her tenth birthday." He says softly staring straight ahead. "I called and sent a gift but....she is getting good at pretending that it's alright when I'm not there." He takes a sip of whiskey, "You know where I was?" He keeps his focus forward, Angela's nod goes unnoticed by him. "I was in jail, working on that piece of slime Alan Madden, getting him to trust me, so he would introduce me to Victor when we were released."

"Bobby the world needs...."

"The world?" He turns to catch her eye. "And my daughter doesn't." He sets the empty glass on the table.

"Bobby if you want out I can understand that but...."

"No I don't want out I'll do what I have to do," he stands and stretches then scrubs his fingers through his hair. "Just like always."

Not being a parent herself Angela can only imagine the torture his heart is going through, not only is the woman he loves marked for assassination if he makes one little mistake it will be forever, not just eight months that Jessica Goren will not see her father.

**The Next Morning**

His out of control behavior stifled and neither became more than slightly intoxicated. She wakes to find him on the bed next to her. The morning sun is shining through the window. She lies back down, "Bobby," she says his name softly, no response. "Bobby," she raises her voice just a tad. "Wake up," she hears him grunt.

He opens his eyes then quickly closes them; the glare from the sun is a bit too strong on his eyes this early in the morning. "Shit." He says as he turns on his side. "What time is it?"

She pats his arm, "If I could see the face on my watch I'd let you know."

He raises his own arm, temporarily forgetting that he too has a watch on his wrist, he clears his throat. "Eight thirty," he sits up, "Eight thirty, shit!"

"What's the matter?"

"I have to….Victor, that psycho bastard has an appointment with his fortune teller." Angela flops back down on the bed, holding her hand to her mouth, "It's alright, go ahead laugh." He searches the floor for his shoes.

"I'm not laughing," she stifles the sound. "Why do you have to take him?"

"He won't leave the house without me, next thing he'll make me take him to the circus and buy him an ice cream cone." This time he starts to laugh, "Holy shit this is pathetic."

**The Home of Victor Pachinko**

"Where is he?" the man of short stature and gray hair asks repeatedly as he paces nervously around the foyer of the Long Island Mansion.

"He went out last night Victor, remember?" Cliff Gruber replies.

Victor pushes past the thirty-year-old man, "Yes," Victor nods his head. "I remember."

"I can take you."

"No you can't," he stops pacing. "I need Bobby, find him!" Victor exclaims then holds his hand to his racing heart.

"I'm here, I'm here Victor."

"Where have you been?" Victor asks nervously with only a hint of his heritage Russian accent.

"Sorry Victor, I ah…."

Victor pats his back, "You stayed out all night, drinking?"

"Yes, I was drinking a bit."

Victor steps back to eye his most trusted employee, "We have time, now go take a shower."

"I won't be long," Bobby says as he turns toward the staircase. He scales the steps two at a time. After a few long strides down the hall, he comes upon his bedroom door. He opens the door, wanting to slam it behind him, he does not. He holds in his emotions as he always does. "This is almost over, keep it together, you have to."

**That is all for now.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

**June 2002 **

"Miss, ah..." Deakins fumbles his words.

"It's Mrs." She flashes a quick but professional smile, "Angela is fine."

"Angela please," Eric stands, "Have my seat."

"No, no please stay, I'd rather stand." She lays her leather case on top of Deakins desk, not one to beat around the bush she gets right down to business. "We have reason to believe," she says as she paces around the office. She stops at the window, after a quick gaze at the Brooklyn Bridge she turns to face them, "That the man you seek is within a group of men who deal with terror and cruelty everyday, who exactly he is?" She shrugs her shoulders, "We are not sure but my source close to the scene, believe that there is a killer among them."

"Your source?" Eric asks.

Alex asks a question before Angela can answer the first, "What exactly is the scene?"

"My source is someone on the inside, the scene, well as I said terror and cruelty; which is an excellent description," she pauses for a moment not for dramatic effect but for the thought of what one simple little word means. "Slavery," she says the word with disdain. She hears a gasp from more than one. She scans their faces and is not shocked to see the look of surprise on all three. She continues to pace as she speaks, "Though it has been discarded as a terror of the past; seldom is it thought of as a threat in modern day society. Slavery, in one of its most sadistic forms, still thrives in the shadows of our streets." Angela sits in the seat that was offered to her by Eric, she crosses her legs and continues to speak clearly and crisply, showing no emotion though her stomach is turning from this tale of cruelty that one person can bestow on another. "The modern day slave trade, called human trafficking, is a wealthy business on a global scale. Over 700,000 women are taken prisoner each year in the worldwide network of human trafficking. Approximately 50,000 of these women end up in the United States." Her audience stays quiet but the expression of horror has not faded. "To bring the point closer to home, on the East Coast there are many women, ranging between the ages of 14 and 35, being forced into prostitution. In fact, in New York, chances are you've driven past a brothel without even realizing it." Angela pauses for a moment to remove a piece of paper from her case. "I have an operative in there now, however he can not reveal himself at this time, two many months of waiting. I contacted you to tell you that all the women were Russian." She hands the paper to Deakins, "Here is a list of their names and their relatives in Russia, if they have family here, well let's just say that they are keeping quiet due to the fact that they are here illegally. My source is the one who informed me that these women were brought into this country against their will." She pauses for a moment, "May I have a drink of water."

"Yes of course," Deakins responds then pours her a glass of water.

"Thank you," she stands then takes the glass from his hand. Just a quick sip and she continues her tale, she resumes her seat. "All of this by the way is speculation; we have no proof, not yet anyway. The end is near to take down this organization, which we believe to be the biggest in the country."

"You have someone on the inside why can't he or she investigate this?" Eric asks.

"No, he can't he is too deep into the organization and he must keep his focus on where and when the time and the evidence he seeks is concrete. He is very close. I don't want him to be involved in this investigation also."

The solemn look on their faces causes Angela to stand, "Four lives compared to 50,000. I am not ignoring the fact that these women lost their lives that is why I am here."

"What is the plan?" Deakins asks.

"Victor Pachinko is a Russian immigrant. You can look up his Income tax records and you will find that he has done very well in this country. He owns twelve employment agencies in the tri-state area."

"What does the agencies have to do with this?" Deakins asks

"A great deal, the trafficking industry hides behind a facade of normality. By establishing employment agencies for immigrants, traffickers ensnare victims, usually women hoping to escape poverty in their own country or to send money home for their families. Often, these women immigrate to the U.S. After they were promised a job through these agencies. Typically, once they arrive they are stripped of their legal papers and passports, beaten, and locked in a room. Understandably confused, a captive woman may examine her surroundings to find a crude mattress on the floor and vermin for companions. Within a few hours, though, her first customers will arrive. Initially, the men, taking advantage of her confused state, may rape the victim. Armed men guard all the brothel doors, so escaping is out of the question. Language barriers usually prevent a victim from seeking aid, and, as brothels exist in the secrecy of the cities, most captured women are lost forever to the shadows."

"So it is his employment agencies that lures them."

"Yes after they have been taken away someone from the agency will notify the family that they never arrived."

"Is he, Victor the big fish?" Eric asks.

"At first we thought so but lately he has been talking about someone coming to the states for a meeting, we have surmised that this someone is the 'The Head'" she uses her fingers to make quote marks in the air. She waves her hand, "Anyway, someone is coming to town for a meeting. We believe it will happen by the end of summer."

"You want Detective Eames to," Deakins shrugs his shoulders. "Do what exactly?"

"Victor has a very strong sexual appetite. He always has two or three women in his house that serve as his personal sex slaves."

Alex covers her mouth as she says, "Oh my God."

"Where was God when this animal was born? I don't know." Angela says then takes a long cleansing breath, _my God how does Bobby do_ _this_. "Your position will be their caretaker or shall we say Madame." Alex's face is expressionless, she then stands as if pacing around the room will help her to focus on what was just said, Angela watches her intently. "You can say no Detective; however with your background in vice you know how these people act. We have been looking to find a way to get another person in there and unfortunately, it cost the lives of four women. You will have more freedom to, shall we say, roam the house without suspicion."

Alex looks from Deakins, to Eric to Angela. Deakins gives her a fatherly smile, Eric looks terrified and Angela is stone faced, Alex's first thought 'Bitch', but she knows that women in authority do seem to be heartless; after all she has had that same expression on her face.

"Victor will be given records from one of his confidants and one of those records will be replaced with yours. All former prostitutes, your credentials will fit Victor's quota to a tea except for one, you are an American. Not only are you young enough to handle these woman, you fit his idea of the perfect woman, he likes his woman petite and cute."

Alex's eyebrows practically rise up to the top of her skull, "No," Angela says immediately, "He will not expect you to perform. Don't be offended Alex but you're too old for Victor."

She expels a sigh of relief, "Be a Madame to Victor's girls?" Alex questions the idea.

"Yes you will live in the same house and you will be able to infiltrate his cluster of associates."

"Cluster, exactly how many?"

"At this moment there are 10 men living and working for Victor in his mansion."

"Ten?"

"Yes a mansion on Long Island, the acreage is attractive and the house is needless to say beautiful." Angela resumes the seat she recently vacated, "One of those associates is your killer," she crosses her legs, "You will get what you want and we will get what we want."

"Your person on the inside can't do this?" Eric asks again hoping that Angela responds with a more suitable answer.

Shaking her head, "No, as I said before I don't want him to pursue this, he can't, not with the position he holds, Detective Eames will have more freedom to do what she pleases. As in search the house, after all we know that all serial killers love to keep trophies

"Will your source be the one to bring me in?"

"No," she says sternly. "We will set you up with a new identity and Victor will come looking for you."

She pats Alex's arm, "We never make the first move, we let them."

"What happened to the previous one?

"My source on the inside informed me that she was arrested and is in jail, Victor refuses to post her bail." She pauses. "The previous woman were let go out into the street."

"Literally?" Deakins asks.

"Yes and no, they were put into brothels."

"Yesterday three women have been reserved to take their place. He doesn't mind ex-cons working for him but if you are arrested when you are an employee he immediately cuts you off."

Deakins asks her again, "Alex, are you game?"

She pauses for a moment, thinking of the pressing things that she has to do for the next few weeks, no husband, no children, though she has a close relationship with her parents and siblings, they would certainly understand her need and desire to do this. She stands, answering her CO with confidence,

"Yes Sir I am." She turns to face Angela, "When do I go in?"

Angela offers a proud look as she answers, "As soon as possible."

"Which means?"

"In two days."

The next day Angela and Alex spend many hours together getting Alex prepared for this operation.

**Alex's Apartment**

Though she could not reveal the specific plans for where and what she will be doing, her father was proud that she was chosen for such an assignment, her mother was apprehensive to say the least. She has picked out her outfit for tomorrow and a meeting has been set up at a cafe in Manhattan. She must arrive at the cafe no later than 2 pm. She was told to appear casual, however jeans are not accepted. Though she was hoping to get to bed early, she has trouble falling asleep.

**The Next Morning**

She wakes with the same thoughts she fell asleep with. It is so overwhelming for her and she has a difficult time believing that soon she will be in the middle of a ring of criminals dealing in the most inhuman business the human race has ever conceived. She recalls Angela's description of her soon to be career. "Every few months Victor removes two, sometimes three woman from the street and they," she pauses as she catches the look of horror on Alex's face. "You think I'm a cold heartless person, don't you?"

Alex shakes her head as she answers, "No Angela I don't, you speak your words to the point but I can hear the sorrow in your voice."

"I have been on this job for over 20 years and I have always been proud of the fact that I am able to shield myself from most crimes. This one," she shakes her head. "This one has me sick with the thought that these men see women only as objects for their own personal use and not for who they are, young intelligent vibrant woman. Women, who are a very important part of this madness that is he human race."

"It is rather revolting to think about this."

"Yes it is and you have to remember that you will be acting as a Madame, the girls are treating very well while they live with Victor but the shame and abuse they must endure from this psycho bastard," she chuckles softly.

As does Alex, "Psycho bastard? Who gave him that name?"

"My operative on the inside, oh one more thing, he will not reveal himself to you, it is too dangerous to do so. However he will know who you are."

"So if someone treats me better...."

"No he won't do that, he is there to do his job and that is all."

"Angela what if Victor doesn't pick me?"

Angela pats her forearm, "He will as I said before you are perfect."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

**July 2002**

Alex arrived at the Café Monet at one-forty five. She asked for a table outside, which were her instructions, why? She decided, better not to ask. The host escorts her to the table for two, he leaves one menu on the table and he offers one to her. She orders a white wine. Sitting erect with her hands on her lap she seems, to anyone watching her, very calm. The butterflies in her stomach have turned into bats. The waiter sets down the glass of white wine she ordered and immediately scampers away. The thought of downing this glass of wine and immediately getting another one, flashes through her mind, _No, _she takes a quick sip_. Not a_ _good idea, show up drunk. Talk about a bad first impression_. She is nervous yes, but with the thought that one of the men, she will soon encounter is on her side and, she takes another sip of wine, one is a killer, _what in the hell_ _have I gotten myself into_. Her thoughts are broken when she hears her new name.

"Miss Hawkins," she turns to the sound, all she sees is a chest. _Good choice Angela, she is perfect._ He shows no smile, he is all business.

"Yes," she is thankful that she has found her voice. Needing to raise her head to take in the full form of this man, he is well over six feet tall, his dark curly hair falls around his face, perfectly. A sparkle of gold glistens from the earring set in his left ear. She finds herself staring into a set of brown eyes that elicit in her warmth and composure. _Stop staring_. She quickly lowers her gaze.

"Please, come with me," he holds out his hand. "Victor is waiting for you."

_He's American,_ she wants to ask where he was born, she hears Angela's voice in her head, _never ask them questions_, _never start a personal_ _discussion_. She places her hand in his, and pauses just for a moment, _his hands could easy crush me like a twig_, he helps her to stand. _Somehow, I doubt that he would do that._

He releases his hold as soon as she is upright, "This way please," he gestures for her to go first. He follows two steps behind. She spies another man, not as tall but with the same facial expression, waiting by the door. "This way," her new colleague waves to her, _colleague oh my God._

Bobby opens the rear passenger door for her. She stands motionless for a moment as she admires the English made black Bentley. She wants to smile, she keeps a straight face, however she does say, "Thank you," he of course says nothing. Closing the door, he gets into the front passenger side and the shorter man gets behind the wheel. Being a cop whose most distinct attribute is nosiness she continues to bite her tongue wanting to ask many, many questions, _should I ask their_ _names, better not, they didn't offer, so I guess they don't want me to_ _know. Damn this is frustrating and I haven't even started yet. _Never has she been in a car that no words are spoken, not even the two men in the front seat.

The Bridgehampton home in Long Island is massive to say the least; it sits in the middle of 12 acres of property. The driver steers the car through the electric gate then up to the front of the house. She notices a cottage that sits off to the side of the main house; it would and could hold a family of four comfortably. She remains in the vehicle as she watches her fellow passengers open their doors. The bats have returned and her knees begin to knock, Bobby opens the rear passenger door and once again, he offers her his hand, "Miss Hawkins." _Wonder if she is as_ _calm as she appears. _His faint smile goes unnoticed by her. _I doubt it_. When she emerges from the vehicle a red Ferrari catches her eye, it sits in front of the Bentley, shining brightly in the afternoon sun.

Minutes later Bobby and the driver of the Bentley escort her into the foyer of the home, which in comparison is the same size as her apartment. The gasp she expels is either not noticed by the men or they don't care. Bobby opens a set of double doors and she freezes for a moment. The room is sparse except for two large chairs that give the impression that they are recliners. Before them sits a large desk, which sits in the middle of the room and an older man is in the seat behind the desk. He raises his head and her first thought of Victor; _he looks like someone's Grandfather_. The notions and images of this cruel and evil man were of a one eyed man who would spend his day ranting and torturing not only woman but animals and little children as well. Maybe he does but by the look of him, it is very doubtful.

He does not stand as he speaks, "Please," he waves his hand to her, "Come in, come in. Punctual I like that." She walks further into the room, not pleased about getting closer to this man but when she walks, it stops her knees from knocking. She turns when she hears the door close, the driver has exited. She is left in the room with Bobby, though she does not know his name yet, and….she scans the room quickly, four other men. One is a middle-aged man who seems to enjoy hovering over Victor. Two men who appear to be in their mid thirties are standing near the large window with their hands clasped in front of them and one who continues to fill Victor's glass with vodka after each sip, "Enough Cliff, enough." He speaks softly but sternly at the man. His only response is a nod. She remains standing waiting patiently for someone to offer her a seat. Victor does, "Sit, please sit."

Once again, she is thankful for not only being able to walk but to sit, she crosses her legs and that most defiantly stops her knees from knocking. Victor's stares are very disturbing to her; they appear to her to be as if he is examining her, inside and out. He stands suddenly and walks out from behind his desk; he paces around her two times, and then returns to the seat behind the desk. As he sits he removes a cigar from the wooden box on his desk, he snaps off the end, "You'll do fine." He leans forward and waves a small rectangular card. Bobby takes possession of the card. "Call Ramon and he will fit you with your new wardrobe." Bobby hands her the card, she tried to suppress her glee, she doesn't, "Wow, I mean thank you, ah…."

"Victor, we are very informal here. "Go on now and meet my girls." Victor places the cigar in is mouth. "The young, one," he lights the cigar, "She looks too young, do something about that." He takes a long drag that fills the room with the aroma and smoke of the 50-dollar cigar, "Go on, Bobby will show you."

She looks around the room, wondering which of the men is Bobby; her hopes are for him to be the tall brown-eyed man, why she is not quite sure. She scans their faces looking for a sign, what exactly that sign is, she is not sure. One by one, she gazes quickly at them, _fed or killer? _She asks herself that question repeatedly. One thing she notices is that only one of the men smile at her when she catches their eye, Cliff.

Bobby offers his hand, "Miss Hawkins," Alex has lost the ability to move. He places his hand on her arm. Within a moment, he tugs on her arm gently. "Come with me, please," she looks up and catches his eyes. His soft voice and warm eyes, relax her immediately. She flashes a smile in his direction then immediately turns away. _My God is it him? _She quickly scans the men's faces again_. Or him? Holy shit_, just the thought of it makes her stomach turn when the reality of the situation hits her like a lightening bolt, _one of the men in this house or in this room is a **serial killer**_.

At first she is given a tour of the mansion, _you need a freakin' map to_ _find where you're going_, she thinks as she is shown, not only the inside of the massive home but the outside. It has all the amenities that you would expect in a home of this size, two pools inside and out. Two saunas, inside and out, a billiard room, that is the size of the squad room at the station and of course the tennis court and a putting green.

They once again enter the house from yet another entrance, _Jesus Christ how many freakin' doors are there._

"I haven't actually counted but I would say six."

She stops suddenly, "How, how did you do that?"

"I asked myself the same question when I got here."

"How long have you been here?" She asks then immediately bites her lip, _shit_.

_You held off for at least an hour Detective, not bad_. He gestures for her to lead the way; she does, "Too long."

_Typical answer for someone hiding their criminal past, _she thinks keeping a straight face.

He returns to the stone-faced man, who is all about business, "Follow me," he says flatly. She follows him up a flight of stairs, removing a set a keys from his pocket he unlocks a crisp white wooden door. "This is your room."

Her stomach is turning again; however, the room is beautiful, antiques throughout the room, paintings over the dressers and bed. She stands in amazement, the bed is the size of her bedroom in her apartment, she smiles. He has crossed over to the other side of the room, unlocking a door, she thought was the closet. It is not, "Miss Hawkins," his voice startles her slightly. "This way."

"Yes, I'm coming." Alex crosses the room and stands in the doorway, she finds a young woman, who appears to be twenty-five but is probably more like seventeen.

She remains; he has entered the room, "Come in." She does, he points to the young woman who remains seated in a chair, she never looks at her guests, "This is Inga," he motions with his hand for her to follow; he unlocks another door in the corner of the room. Another woman is there, she too looks about twenty-something. "This is Greta." Again, he motions with his hand for her to follow, she watches as he once again unlocks another door, "And this is Sonja."

Alex speaks for the first time, "The young one." She thinks to herself, _fourteen, fifteen….oh my God._

"Yes," he turns away from the young girl. _My daughter in four years, _he jingles the keys, "These are yours keep the rooms locked at all times."

She nods, "I will." She follows him back to her room, once inside he removes a book from one of the two dressers.

"In this book are the names and numbers of doctors, hairdressers," he pauses as he holds it out for her. "Any one and anything you need to take care of them. Also their schedule, when they eat, sleep….you know." She nods as she watches him cross the room; she remains motionless holding the book with two hands. "Don't forget to lock the doors."

"Yes, yes of course.

He grabs for the doorknob, "Dinner for you is sharp at 7. Have them ready for dinner at 5." He opens the door and leaves the room. She calls out after him, "Where do they eat?"

He frowns, "In there rooms, but…." He takes a step closer, he appears taller in this room and she has to look up, she wishes he'd stand back, "Victor may come into their rooms at any time, they must always look good." He checks his watch, "It's after four now," he says as he turns away from her. _Hopefully this madness will end and soon_.

She nods as he leaves the room closing the door behind him; she expels a breath as she holds her hand to her heart, "Oh my God." What she wouldn't give to be able to snap her fingers and this would all be over. She sits on the edge of the bed; she notices the bottles of wine, white, red and rose. She defiantly needs a drink; she uncorks the white wine, vintage 1962 France. She moves up on the bed, she opens the book and drinks the wine.

One by one, she enters the girls' room wishing she could release them now but she knows that is impossible, not now. She must wait for the right time, just like her FBI colleague.

It took a minute or two but she suddenly came to the realization that none of the three spoke English, they were all Russian, like Victor, she opens the closets and stands in awe of the clothes that fills each closet. She finds the perfect look, in her eyes anyway, for when they dine.

She returns to her room and pours herself another glass of wine. She kicks off her shoes then sits on the bed. The mattress is to her liking. She once again reads the book.

She hears a faint knock on the door; she was asleep, "Yes," she says as she removes herself from the bed. "Coming," she opens the door to find Bobby, good it's you, her heart stops racing. "I fell asleep."

"It's time for dinner Miss Hawkins," she would love to refuse, not sure with whom she will be dining; _She looks this good after getting up from a nap, wow. _He immediately regains his focus of the matter athand."Victor approved," he says. That should ease her mind a bit, my God what she must be thinking.

She lets out a lung full of air. _So far so good_, "My shoes, I have to put on my shoes."

Not that he wants to expose himself, that would be a disaster but he must find ways to keep her safe. It was his idea, not only for someone else to come into this operation but just to call her for dinner; however, he speaks the truth. "Victor will not tolerate tardiness, but being your first day here with us, he has let it slide." He watches her as she locates her shoes, each one on a different side of the room. _It's_ _time Detective, now it gets hard, hope you're up for it_, he smiles to himself, _something tells me that you are_.

She passes through the threshold, this time she leads the way to the stairs. _Ok Alex it's time to shine, not even six hours and I'm already deep. _She stops walking_, Holy shit….No, _she begins to walk again_. I can and will be able to do this._


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

"Bobby," she calls his name softly.

He turns to face her before he answers, "What is it?" he asks without the slightest bit of annoyance.

"Everything happened so fast today; would it be possible for someone to take me to my place tonight to get some of my clothes?"

"I don't see a problem with that."

He continues walking down the stairs, "But Victor would," Alex states.

He stops then turns to face her again, "Why would he? You are not a prisoner," _they are yes but not for long_. "Miss….may I call you Alex?"

"Of course, I would like that."

"After dinner you may have some things to do for Victor then Marco will take you to your apartment." He continues walking, "I'll take care of it for you, don't worry."

"Thank you."

They enter the dining room, walking side by side. He escorts her to a seat, pulling out the chair for her and as she sits all the men at the table stand. She is a bit overwhelmed but she does manage to say, "Thank you," she watches Bobby walk around the table and he takes the seat directly across from her, she is relieved, why? She is not sure. She glances around the room, compared to the rest of the house the dining table seems out of character for the antiques and priceless pieces every where the eye can see. The table is small, it only seats eight, there is one empty chair is at the head of the table. It appears to be vacant for a reason. Why? She can only wonder.

She recognizes the men seated at the table, Victor of course, Cliff, let's get Victor drunk, the hovering one and the two quiet ones who remained in the same position during her meeting with Victor. "Please forgive," Victor says. "My manners, earlier today were atrocious."

"Victor?" She questions his comment as she removes a cloth napkin from the table and places it on her lap. As she does, she sees before her more utensils for one meal than she uses in a week.

"My colleagues, I neglected to introduce you to my colleagues." He remains seated as he introduces her to the men seated at the table; he starts with the man directly to his right, _the hovering one_, Alex thinks. "This is Albert," he stands and bows his head.

"Alex, it's nice to meet you," he says with a slight Russian accent.

Alex bows her head in return, "Albert," _Wow criminals with manners_. Albert stands at five foot nine, dark hair combed and parted on the side, perfectly. He is 38 years old; he with his parents came to America when he was 10. Raised poor he has overcome that life of poverty, the only way he knew, criminally. He is clean-shaven and his suit is neatly pressed not one wrinkle can be seen.

Victor gestures to the man next to Albert. "This is Erik," one of the men by the window. Erik is an inch shorter than Albert; he is dressed in a plaid sport shirt and black pants. His hair is dark and cut very short. He is 25 years old and his past mirrors Albert's.

He also stands, "Alex, it's a pleasure."

"Erik," _he's Russia._

"Martin," Victor introduces the man seated next to her.

Martin stands and he too bows his head, "Alex nice to meet you." Martin's hair still has bits of red showing through the gray. He has the look of a hard and tired life for the 46 years he has lived, many visits to prison but he seems to fit into this band of men, he is also casually dressed, like Erik and Bobby.

She once again bows her head, "Martin," _an American._

"Bobby you already are acquainted with and here to my left is Cliff." Cliff appears to be so out of place, not only for the deeds that these men have done but also for just living here with them, he like Albert is dressed in a tailor made suit. He is 42, specks of gray in his hair gives off the impression that of a college professor. No hard lines in his face like that of the other men. He not only stands he walks toward her with his hand out, "Alex it's very nice to meet you."

She accepts his hand as she stands, "It's nice to meet you, Cliff." _So, Bobby, Martin and Cliff are American and Victor, Albert and Eric are Russia. Gees how in the hell did they all meet? _

She throughout the meal takes quick glances at her fellow employees and her boss. They along with her live in a mansion where terror and cruelty are not seen but all know that it exists. From the outside, all one would see is a beautiful home where the word terror is none existent.

The one man at this table with whom seems to be on her level of life, which life she is not sure is Bobby. He seems devoted to Victor but at the same time carefree and very glad that he has come to live in a home such as this. His face is not like the others, like Cliff no hard lines. She finds herself staring again, what a sweet face. However what is really go on inside his head, does this face mask the mind of a killer. _Nah, no way it's not him_. She says with conviction, luckily, she kept it to herself. Clean, neat…they are all clean-shaven, she smirks except for Bobby. She has decided though that the FBI man is defiantly, Cliff.

Not wanting to seem ignorant about what she ate, even though it was delicious, she never asks. The conversation during the meal consisted of politics and history, Victor may be a cruel and vile man but she discovers is very intelligent, the other men also. Not sure about Bobby, he remained quiet throughout the meal, either he is not intelligent enough to participate or he is just not interested, as was she.

Though all the men were finished with their meal, no one has left the table. Victor drinks down the last of his brandy, "Miss Hawkins," she is slightly startled from the sound of her name, "Have Inga ready for me in an hour."

He leaves the room, followed closely by Albert, then Cliff, Erik and Martin. Bobby remains behind, "You look lost." He states.

"No….I…." _stop stuttering Alex_, "Where do I send her?"

"You don't," he pours wine into a glass, then he holds up the bottle, "Alex?"

She resumes her seat, "Please."

"You haven't read the book, have you?"

"Most of it but...." she takes a sip of wine.

"Victor will go to her room," Alex sits back in the chair, then takes another sip of wine. She sets the glass on the table, then picks it up again, she wants to ask, _which one is Inga?_

"Inga is the one in the room directly next to yours." She hears him say, feeling somewhat relieved, she stands.

"How do you do that?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know, too bad my psychic abilities don't work at the track. Then all this would be mine and I'd had people working for me."

She has to smile; she has to ask, "Why didn't you go with them?"

"Not my place."

"Oh I see," she takes a sip of wine. _He works for Victor not Victors human trafficking trade._ _Yes, I was right Cliff is the FBI guy, I knew it._

She takes two steps forward, then stops and turns to face him; he has remained seated at the table, holding the long stemmed wine glass in his hand. She manages a sound, "Ah, I….I…."

He chuckles softly as he stands, quickly drinking the remaining wine in the glass he then sets it down, "This way," she remains still then follows him through a maze of rooms, moments later they reach the stairs, "First door on the right is yours."

She nods speaking softy, "Thank you."

"Alex," she turns to face him, "Victor said an hour," he says with a threatening tone as he checks his watch, "That was five minutes ago, five minutes after nine." Alex is half way up the staircase when she hears her name, "Alex," she turns.

"Yes," she walks down two steps.

He climbs the large staircase two steps at a time, meeting her, he speaks softly, "Check the book for fragrances and she, well all of them must be freshly showered."

"Thank you." Not happy about her task, playing Madam but at least the first night will go smoothly, _Oh my God. _She enters her room, closes the door behind her and lays her back against the door; she speaks aloud," Clean, scrubbed clean, just like the victims."

Marco appeared at her door at 9:30, "Miss Hawkins, Bobby has informed me that you wish a lift to your apartment.

"Yes, give me a minute please."

"Yes of course."

She closes the door. Moments later, she opens it and follows him down the hall, down the stairs and out the front door. He opens the rear passenger door and she gets into the vehicle.

"Miss Hawkins, the address please."

"27 Beach Crest, Rockaway," she pauses for a moment. "It's my sister's place," she says solemnly.

She stuffs as many items as she can into her one suitcase, for a moment, as she looks around her bedroom, she wishes she could hop into her bed pull the covers over her head and forget what has happened and hide away from what is coming. She is back at the mansion before eleven-thirty.

When Victor came into Inga's room that night, Alex could not hear and for that, she is grateful.

A week has come and gone, though Alex is no closer to discovering the identity of the killer then when she arrived, she does have a great deal of freedom. She has the liberty to not only wander around the house without alerting suspicion she dines with these for every meal. The one thing that she does notice is their loyalty to Victor; it is mind boggling to her.

Angela was correct in the fact that 10 men live and work here, including a chef, a butler, two housekeepers and a driver; all but the driver is Russian. She, aside from the girls are the only females. At first, she felt uncomfortable however, even though she knows what they are involved in and who they are, they have shown her nothing but respect.

She wakes this morning earlier than usual. She takes care of the girls then strolls down to the dinning room for breakfast. All are present except Victor. Knowing it is not wise to inquire she sits and converses and enjoys yet another fantastic meal. _A week, and already I think I've_ _gained some weight_. She thinks as she checks her look in the full-length mirror. "Exercise, I need some exercise, a swim, a long invigorating swim. She chooses the outside pool.

Not even thinking whether she wanted company or to swim alone as she nears the pool she hears the end of a familiar classic rock song, then she hears, "104.3 K rock," through speakers that she cannot see. She stops for a moment to decide if she wants to spend the afternoon with whoever is already laying on one of the lounge chairs, from her current position she can only see feet, she moves slowly and cautiously toward the figure and has to smile when she sees who it is.

"Beer, wine, soda, water whatever you want is in the fridge behind the bar," he points to his left. "Help yourself."

She notices that his head is facing forward and his eyes are closed, _something you learn in prison; keep you ears open even when your eyes are_ closed. _Wonder what he did? Couldn't_ _have been anything violent, burglary maybe_. She takes a step closer, "You don't mind if I….?"

He sits up moving his sunglasses from atop his head to his eyes, "Why would I mind, better you than," he smiles. "No I don't mind," he moves his legs off the chair and stands, "Please sit, what would you like to drink?" He holds up his hand and she keeps silent. He steps forward, "Let me guess," he paces in front of her, "A margarita."

She smiles then laughs aloud, the first sound of laughter from her in a long time, "Very good, yes I would love a margarita." She sits on the lounge, "But I bet you can't…." she smirks, "No I bet you can make one." She watches him intently as he walks with a confident gait across the patio to the wet bar. She finds herself examining his well-trimmed body, no tattoos but there is a scar on his side, it is long and very old, _knife wound?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

**Alex's Bedroom**

She wakes to the feeling of warm breath on her neck, the warmth breath of someone, yes someone, Bobby. She closes her eyes as he caresses her neck with his lips. Only two margaritas then some lunch then a long needed swim in the pool. A long walk around the grounds of this mansion, gardens everywhere, beautiful gardens that hide an evil man and his evil deeds. She wandered the grounds with her escort hand and hand, feeling a sense of security in his large, gentle hands. They kissed for the first time by a small pond stocked with various species of fish. Two more margaritas, even better then the first too, yes the man does make a great margarita. A quiet dinner by the pool for two then love making on the very lounge chairs that they occupied throughout the day.

She rolls over and catches his eyes examing her, his fingers teasing her breasts. She hears mumbled words escape his lips he then lowers his head, "You do tempt me." He then kisses her between her breasts, sits up in the bed as if he heard someone call his name.

Alex manages a look at the clock, _5 a.m_., she grabs his arm, "Where are you going?"

"Back to my room."

"Why?"

He lies back down resting his elbow on the bed, "I don't know, not use to sleeping with someone, it's been awhile."

She touches his hair, "Me too," stroking two fingers through the curls, "Don't leave." He lies down on his back, she places her arm across his chest. Her hand trails the length of his body from his chest to his still silent dick. Rubbing it gently, she smiles as a look of pleasure appears on his face. Suddenly she stops, "Maybe you're right."

All he can manage to say is, "What?"

Her laugh is sinister but sweet, she resumes her tender stroking, feeling his dick grow in her hand.

Alex lifts herself up from the bed and positions herself on his legs. He holds her by her waist as she moves closer to him. Their lips met and their kiss is long and deep. As he kisses her neck, his hands are sliding down her body.

His hands slide up to her breasts. She lays her hands on his shoulder as he moves forward taking one nipple between his lips drawing it in deeply making her moan. He licks and kisses her between her breasts before he takes control of the other one.

He moves his hand down between her legs and touches her gently. His finger curls into her feminine warmth. He slides one finger into her tracing her softness. "You sure you want to be up there?"

A sinister smile crosses her face, "Oh yes, Oh yes I do."

"Ok," he lets his arms down as if he's surrendering, "I'm all yours."

Alex leans down and covers her mouth with his, "I know," she raises herself up and reaches for one of the foil wrappers on the end table. She unwraps it and slides it on him. She glides her fingers from the head down and back again. He lets out a moan as his body tightens. Alex moves up and takes control as she guides him into her.

They hold each other's hands as she raises herself up and down, slowly at first then faster and faster with each movement. "God, you're so beautiful." He says as he quickens the pace.

She throws her head back and lets go of his hands as she feels the first wave of pleasure. Alex shivers once, twice, she lets out a clenched sigh. He grabs her by the waist moving her up and down. He lifts her higher and faster each time as he succumbs to the wave of ecstasy surging through his body. He picks her up one last time and growls as he climaxes.

Alex relaxes her body and slumps on his chest and lays there needing to catch her breath. She kisses his neck then lifts herself off and snuggles in next to him. Words were not spoken before they fell asleep for the second time.

**7 AM**

He wakes first and the movement on the bed causes her to awaken. He, quietly as possible slips on his boxers then his pants. She watches him, smiling, yes it has been a long time since someone sent her to ecstasy. The thought of where they were and who was owner of this house was forgotten for the evening, she sits up quickly, he notices, "You alright?" he asks with concern.

_He thinks I'm a whore, a former prostitute_, she wishes she could tell him who she is but that would be a disaster. Not that he treated her with any disrepect, his gentle touch was so soothing to her tired body. "I wasn't on the streets that long," she blurts out the sentence.

He drapes his shirt over his shoulder as walks to her side of the bed, he sits down and caresses her face. "I've done many things that I am not proud of, as for what you use to do, I don't care." He leans over and kisses the spot on her cheek that his hand was caressing, "Besides, I think its too late to worry about the past, as I said it's been a long time, I love you."

The words were not a surprse to her and the sparkle in his eye sends a shiver through her, she sits up closer to him, "I love you too." She pushes him gently, "You'd better go, you have work to do and so do I." She removes the blanket from her body and steps out of the bed. "See you at breakfast."

She watches him leave the room_, Oh my God, I've fallen for a bad_ _boy, _she falls back onto the bed_. Face it Alex, it is exciting._

His smile only increases as he walks the few feet to his room, he grabs for the doorknob, then takes a quick glance down the hall from where we came. _My feelings are true but what a charade we are playing, hope this all ends soon._

**A/N: Yes it is short and a little more then sweet. A little quick, too, oh well what is a girl to do.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

For the next few days, neither showed any awkwardness when they sat down to breakfast, then lunch and of course dinner. He performed his duties throughout the day, as did she. The secret after dinner meetings continued leaving Bobby and Alex behind, and of course, they didn't mind.

"What do you think they talk about?" She asks as they ascend the stairs hand and hand. Weeks ago, she would have wanted to kick herself for asking such a question, which on the surface is harmless, so she thought.

He tugs on her hand lightly, forcing her to turn to look at him. "Don't poke your nose into things that are known of your business," he speaks softly but firmly. He lightly caresses her cheek. _God what I wouldn't give to take you out of here right now._

"Bobby it was just…."

He places his index finger to her lips, "You never know who is listening and watching."

She nods her head as she says, "Okay, I understand."

They stand outside her bedroom. She leans up against the door as he looks to the left and then the right, with a devilish grin; he cups her chin in his hand and raises her head slowly to meet his eyes. He brushes his lips across hers. "Victor loses his trust in people very quickly. I don't want that to happen to you." He kisses her again a little deeper this time, "I'll see you later."

She watches as he descends the stairs_, Loses their trust, _she opens her bedroom door_. Then they disappear? _She questions_, _she closes the door softly behind her. "Is that what happened to the last women who lived in this room?"

**The Next Night**

The marvelous dinner is over and once again, all remain at the table waiting patiently for their host to finish. Victor drinks down the last remaining drop of brandy then wipes his mouth gently with a red cloth napkin. _Different colored tablecloth and napkins again, _Alex thinks. She has lost count of the assortment of entrées and desserts she has eaten since coming to live in this den of sin. Victor clears his throat, "Miss Hawkins," he is the only one in the house that still addresses her that way, "Put the girls to bed for the night."

"Yes, Sir," she says trying to hide her surprise.

He stands, "Gentlemen," they follow his lead, except Bobby, who as every night previously remains behind. Albert, Cliff, Eric and Martin follow Victor out of the room. Suddenly Victor stops then returns to the dining room, he places his hand on Bobby's shoulder and though no one is aware a feeling like that of a stream of ice water runs through Bobby's veins at the touch of Victor's hand. "Bobby, come on son," he pats him almost lovingly on his back, "You too." It took a long time but he has finally made it, he would love to pump his fist but as always, he keeps his emotions under wraps.

The only man who showed any concern toward the fact that Bobby has suddenly become so trustworthy in Victor's eyes is Albert, the only women, Alex. Bobby would love to decline the invitation; thoughts of what Alex must be thinking are streaming through his mind. He has waited months and he has, as always preformed his duty perfectly, been asked into the inner sanctum, he knows now that the end is near.

**Later in the Week**

Bobby and Alex's time together has been cut in half. Bobby has always had the duty of escorting Victor whenever he leaves the home but now if Victor wants a swim, Bobby must stand near the pool. When Victor visits the girls, which when she started was every night has dwindled down to just two in the last seven days. Bobby must stand outside the door. Though she is not literate on the subject of psychology she can see that Victor is afraid, afraid to be alone and showing signs of paranoia. The only time she gets to see Bobby and spend some time with him is when Victor is locked inside his bedroom.

The after dinner meeting continues, the business is discussed in detail. Bobby is devouring all the information. The plan is as they suspected, the girls are tricked into a promise of employment. Once they arrive, in America, the girls are stripped of their identity and put to work immediately. Bobby has yet to discover who 'The 'Head' is, no one mentions him by name. Yes, removing Victor would put a dent in the operation but cutting off the head will kill it entirely. He stands next to Victor, literally, every night. He is never asked to participate; he is there for one reason and one reason only to stand by Victor, whose paranoia is growing more each day. Bobby recognizes the signs and so does Albert. The first night that Victor asked Cliff, Martin and Eric to leave the room, Bobby followed them, "No, no," Victor calls to him almost in a panic. "I want you here by me." Victor states, with the authority he knows he has over all. Albert remains and almost immediately he begins to speak badly of Cliff once again. In one meeting, he brings up Alex, he poisons their reputations to Victor, who is slowly losing the one thing that he always had with his employees, trust.

**A Few Days Later**

Alex has just finished her second cup of tea on this muggy August morning, as she leaves the dinning room she hears Victor and another man, whom she discovers when she turns the corner, Cliff.

"Where is he?" the man of short stature and gray hair asks repeatedly as he paces nervously around the foyer of the Long Island Mansion.

"He went out last night Victor, remember?" Cliff Gruber replies.

Victor pushes past the him, "Yes," Victor nods his head. "I remember."

"I can take you."

"No you can't," he stops pacing. "I need Bobby, find him!" Victor exclaims then holds his hand to his racing heart.

"I'm here, I'm here Victor."

"Where have you been?" Victor asks nervously with only a hint of his heritage Russian accent.

"Sorry Victor, I ah…."

Victor pats his back, "You stayed out all night, drinking?"

"Yes, I was drinking a bit."

Victor steps back to eye his most trusted employee, "We have time, now go take a shower."

"I won't be long," Bobby says as he turns toward the staircase.

_Out all night, doing what? Nothing for Victor_, she thinks as her temper is slowly rising. Alex stands near the bottom of the stairs. She is just about to climb them to confront him when she sees Bobby walking quickly down the hall. She remains at the bottom of the staircase.

Being the observant man that he is, he can see the frown, he gently grabs her arm, "I'm....I got stuck. I was with an old friend." She crosses her arms and offers a smirk, which states, come on you can do better than that. Bobby stands erect as he speaks plainly, "Alex if you want to think the worst than no matter what I say...."

She holds her hand to his mouth, "I believe you." He smiles then leans down and steals a quick kiss.

The middle of the day finds Alex wandering throughout the mansion; she has not seen Bobby since morning, _another secret meeting, I don't like that, him getting into this, why? Why is_ _he doing this_? She has come upon the tennis court, never a player herself she hears the sound of a racket hitting a ball. She finds the source of the sound and the person. He throws the ball into the air and smacks it with force that she wouldn't be surprised if the ball exploded.

He stops in mid throw and the ball meets the ground. The feeling of someone watching, he turns suddenly and she steps back. "Hi," she says casually then opens the gate to enter the court. "Never played the game before but isn't there suppose to be someone on the other side." Her attempt at humor is not met.

He wipes his brow with a towel that he has removed from his back pocket, "I just needed to work off a few, ah…."

"Work off the stench," she states assertively.

He stuffs the sweat soaked towel back into his pocket, he then bounces the ball three times, he stops. "We had this discussion once before."

"No," she says sharply, walking closer to him, "No, we didn't discuss anything." She notices his far off stare and she turns in that direction. _Albert_.

He nods his head at her, "Alex," he says her name sweetly but she gets a shiver down her spine.

She does the same, "Albert."

Albert walks with an authoritative gait, "Alex, don't you have anything else to do besides...."

Bobby interjects, "Don't you?"

"Victor is looking for you, Alex." He states bluntly, trying to stare down Bobby but it is futile and he knows it.

Alex turns on her heels and heads back toward the house, Albert watches her intently. He hears the sound of a ball being bounced and turns toward the sound. "With all her experience she must be fantastic in bed," his laugh is mocking, "She must give awesome head."

_Trying to provoke me into a fight, very unlike you Albert, what game are you playing?_ Bobby bounces the tennis ball three times and serves it across the court, his only response to Albert, "Go to hell."

Albert nods his head at the response, "One of these days all those emotions you bottle up are going to explode."

"Are you threatening me?"

Albert stuffs his hands into his pockets, offers a smug look and turns to leave.

_Wonder how good my aim is? Right in the back of the head_. He shakes his head then drops the racket to the ground and leaves the court.

Alex has watched Bobby's level of trust increase in Victor's eyes. She is the one left alone at the table, every evening after dinner. She is bewildered that Bobby goes into these meetings so effortlessly, she has asked why?

His response, "I just stand there, after all I am Victor's bodyguard, now all of a sudden he wants me there standing by his side." He had stated it so assertively that she has decided for now not to push it further.

Being left alone at the table Alex has found her opportunity to do what she came here to do, investigate these men. The best way to start, search their bedrooms. She passed by Bobby's room and last night she searched Cliff's, _nothing out of the ordinary_, she thought after all he is the FBI agent. Tonight she is going to search Albert's' room. She opens the door and finds the room as neat and tidy as the man. Everything from his toiletries to items of importance to him on his dresser are as if they are standing at attention. Usually what you seek is in plain sight and she is so right. She finds two photo albums laying on the nightstand. Easy reach for bedtime viewing. When she opens an album and flips through the pages, she is slightly confused as to the content, photos albums to her are usually filled with family shots of you and your loved ones, but being in the business he is in, she doubts he had a normal upbringing. She turns the pages quickly at first then she slows her pace, page after page of young girls. Male voices are heard and she scurries across the room, opening the door slowly and quietly. She uses one eye to catch a glimpse as to who the voices belong, her heart stops racing, the housekeepers. She leaves the room for the night.

**The Next Night**

Once again, this evening is as always the men leave the table and Alex once again ventures into Albert's room.

**Victor's Office**

"Time is running out Victor," Albert states then lights the cigar dangling from his mouth. The talk of murder to him is as if he is discussing a sporting event.

"Yes I know, stop telling me what to do, remember I pay you."

He gazes at the old man who less than five years ago was a strong and virile man, "I know Victor." He puffs on the cigar filling the room with the sweet aroma of tobacco. Albert knows that Victor trusts him however suddenly his rung on the ladder has dwindled, Victor trusts Bobby much more. "Cliff is no longer with us," he says proudly. "Now," he walks toward Victor's desk, "Alex…."

Bobby ignores what Angela advised, that he not volunteer, he has no choice, he states it plainly, "I'll do it Victor, I'll take care of her."

Victor turns to face his most trusted employee, "You?"

"Yes," he nods his head. "If you don't trust her Victor, I don't trust her." Unbeknownst to them Albert flashes a wicked smile. He stands erect; thrilled that Bobby has come over to his side.

Victor stands and pats Bobby's back, "That's my boy." _What I wouldn't give to grab you by the neck and_ _choke the living shit out of you_, Bobby thinks.

Bobby has to reach deep down and bring to light a part of him that is not real; he forces a smile that to the world, or the men in this room, is real. He looks up and sees an arrogant look of Albert's face. "Are you going to fuck her one last time before you kill her?"

He remembers Angela's words; _you haven't shown him that side of you_. He walks with a slow gait toward Victor's desk, _keep it cool but not cold_. He arrogantly opens the cigar box on Victor's desk, Victor does not object. _After I choke the shit out of Victor, I'm going to put a_ _bullet through your head_. "I said I would do it and I will, how and when?" He lights the cigar, "Is my business." Dragging in the smoke, it does ease his nerves.

This venture into Albert's room, Alex removes the photo albums again. In one book, they are dressed elegantly. "Clean," she picks up the other album. In this book, they are dressed plainly and have a look of despair, "Dirty." She examines the faces very closely she recognizes four of them, they appear in each album. "Before and after," she hears the sound of footsteps nearing the room and she replaces the albums to their spot of importance to Albert. The footsteps pass by and she quietly leaves the room.

She makes her way downstairs and Bobby confronts her, "Come with me." He says commanding as he grabs her arm. Startled by not only the action but also the force. She follows, she has no choice his grasp is very tight.

"Bobby, what the hell are you doing?" She tries to step back but she is unable, he is too strong.

He tugs on her arm again, "Shut the fuck up and come with me."

"Bobby?" she says his name as a lump appears in her throat. "Bobby please stop you're hurting me, let go of my arm."

"Stop fighting me," he pulls her close to him, he can see the fear in her eyes and he wants to soothe that fear. He can't, not now. "Pull back one more time and I'll rip it out of the Goddamn socket!" His voice bellows and she slinks down.

They pass by a smiling Albert who watches with glee as he blows out a puff of smoke and Victor whose proud stance is like that of a father.

…**.BYE…. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

Alex continues to resist, to no avail, he is too strong. They come upon a door, that she has to admit, she never noticed before. He scoops her up easily with his left arm and opens the door with his right hand. He reaches in and flips the switch still holding her tightly, using his foot he closes the door. He carries her most of the way down the stairs. He sets her down but continues to keep a tight hold. She turns away from him and she sees before her racks and racks of wine bottles.

Taking her past the wine racks he suddenly stops, he then turns her to face him, she thinks he is ready to let go, but he doesn't, he grabs her with minimal force by the arms and pushes her against the wall. She looks up into his eyes, eyes that she adored when he made love to her. He takes a step back as he hears quiet sobs from her, her eyes are filled with tears, "Come on, don't cry, please don't cry?" He asks imploringly.

She sniffles as she struggles once again to break free. Yes, the hands she saw that first day _are_ going to snap her like a twig. Hands that caressed her, gentle soft hands, "Sorry if my emotional outburst is disturbing to you....you sick mother fucker," she kicks him, feeling a boot covering his shin. "You're just as sick and depraved as the rest of them, how could I have been so stupid!" She screams as she continues to struggle, "Let go of me!"

"Detective Eames!" He exclaims, she immediately stops and looks up into his eyes, "Alex, I'm not going to hurt you….but we have to make it look that way."

"You? It was you all the time?" He loosens his strong grasp but still has his hands on her arms. "I knew it was you," she says not able to look him in the eye. He remains quiet for a moment, she takes a quick glance at him, he tilts his head to the left and offers a silly smirk. "Alright I didn't know," she says admitting the truth. She expels a long breath as her body relaxes. She feels as if a giant load has been taken off her shoulders, she looks up into his eyes and smiles. Suddenly, but he is not surprised, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him, "You son of a bitch." She says through clenched teeth. "Why?" Uncontrollably she kicks him again.

"Stop that!"

"No, damn you!" She expels a short breath, "You, you never said anything," she says angrily.

He lowers his head staring at his boots as if the answer is there, "I wanted to but I....I was afraid that if I did that someday, someway you, or I would say or do the wrong thing and then it would be over for both of us." He caresses her cheek, wanting to kiss her, "I'm sorry."

"Shit Bobby," she catches his eye, "Is it Bobby?"

He nods, "Yes, Robert Goren special agent for the FBI," he flashes a smiles that makes his eyes sparkle.

She smiles in return, "Damn you are good, how? I mean," she coughs. "So my instincts weren't that far off."

"Who did you think it was?"

"Cliff."

"I thought so, ok," he runs his fingers through his hair, "We don't have much time. There is some major shit going down tonight. To start with, Albert has poisoned you and Cliff in Victor's eyes," he pauses as he bites his lip, "Cliff is dead and I had no choice. I had to volunteer to....shit," he says exasperated.

"I....I....oh my God this is a night mare."

He nods his head in agreement, "Tonight, the night that I have waited for has finally arrived."

"The big boss is coming?" Alex asks.

"No, there is no big boss, it was Victor all the time, I just found that out today. He fooled everyone into thinking that there was someone over him, but there never was. I have all the proof I need and tonight all this madness will end. The entire operation will be destroyed."

She is elated that his job is over and she has the proof as to who the killer is, "Albert is the killer," Alex states plainly.

"Never put much thought into that but as they say anything is possible, he is one sick bastard."

"His bedroom," she lowers her head. "I hated the fact that you went into those meetings after dinner but it gave me the perfect opportunity to search their bedrooms. No one would even think to look at them but....I remembered hearing in a seminar once that all serial killers keep trophies. He does, he has photos of the girls in two albums one were they appear dirty and one where appear clean, not sure but it is my assumption that they are dead when he took the photos of them looking clean."

He continues throughout to hold onto her arms, lightly. "So he takes photos of them before he kills them and after."

"Yes, he is very proud of the fact that he has cleaned the world of these woman, the four women that were murdered were in the albums. Inga, Greta and Sonja were going to be next, their photos were the last three in the dirty book."

"Well maybe with any luck someone will blow his head off tonight and save the tax payers a shit load of money."

"Unfortunately I don't think the feds will give him to us."

"We can't worry about that now, we have work to do." He once again pushes her up against the wall. "I'm going to tell you some things and all I want you to do to respond is blink your eyes and continue to struggle, you now like when you were kicking me, oh by the way that hurt."

She smiles, "Good."

"Behind me is a camera, no audio, see the red dot?" She blinks. "Victor's paranoia had him convinced that someone was stealing his wine, so he installed a camera."

She struggles slightly, "So we have to put on a show."

"I wasn't brought into this operation as a criminal with a history of violence, our conversation shows Albert and Victor that it is not easy for me to do this."

"You think things through very quickly."

He picks her up and shakes her, "I try. I'm going to leave here soon and adjust the camera. All they will see, repeatedly is you on the floor." He takes a breath, "You see the door behind me?" She blinks. "As soon as the red light goes off I want you to leave this room through that door. It will take you to the west side of the house." He notices the concerned look on her face, "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'll meet you there in about five minutes." He steps back, "I'm going to pretend to choke you, I want you to fight me as hard as you can," he leans forward wanting to kiss her. "Pretend," she wants to smile, she holds it in. He grabs her by her throat and begins to count, "One, two, three."

"What the hell?"

"I have to count to at least 200, or about three minutes, that's about how long it takes to ah...."

She resumes her kicking and he resumes his counting. She struggles and pounds on his arms. After about three minutes of struggling, he says, "Ease up a bit on the struggling. Then go limp and slide down the wall, keep you head up so you can see the light and keep you eyes open." She kicks him one last time, she notices his frown. Then slowly her struggling stops. He holds her as she slides down the wall. She remains perfectly still, with a excellent view of the camera and the little red dot. She never knew he could move that fast, the light goes off and she too leaves the room.

Alex paces nervously around the side of the house, she remained within five feet of the door. She hears a noise to the right then she hears her name.

"Alex," she smiles hearing him speak her name.

"Bobby," she sees him emerge from the shadows.

"Yes," in the darkness they hug, he breaks the embrace, "I only have a minute. I haven't had the chance to speak to Angela," he removes a slip of paper and a set of keys from his pocket. He touches her shoulder, "I want you to take these things," he hands her the set of keys, "These are the keys to the cottage. I need you to call Angela from there on your cell, this is her number. All you have to tell her is that it's time." Alex frowns. "She'll know what it means. You stay there till she gets here." He notices her smirk, "Alex this is not the time to be a hero. Please just do what I ask, please?" he says so sweetly that she can not resist.

"Yes, yes of course. You're right," she pauses. "Bobby....what about the girls?"

"So far, they're fine." He pulls her in close and kisses her. He turns to look at the house, "I have to go, Victor is waiting for me."

She grabs his arm, "Bobby...."

He raises his finger to her lips, "I'll be fine," he lowers his hand, "Now go, go on." He watches her for a moment than makes his way back to the main house.

"Angela its Alex."

"_Alex, where's Bobby?"_

"He's in the main house. Too much to tell over the phone. Major shit going on here and he asked me to call and tell you that it's time."

"_Stay put, we're on our way."_

"Ok, see you soon." Angela disconnects the phone.

Alex closes up the phone. She begins walking aimlessly around the living room. The opening of the door startles her. Eric and Martin enter. Martin asks, "What are you doing in here? No one is supposed to be in here."

Eric points to the phone in her hand, "Who were you calling?"

She stands erect, "None of your business on both questions, I was never told I couldn't be in here."

"Well," Martin moves closer to her, "Let's see what Victor has to say about that."

"Albert was right she can't be trusted." Eric says as he grabs her by the arm.

Alex decides not to struggle on the onset of this captivity but as she nears the house she remembers that she is suppose to be dead, Victor and Albert wished it to be and Bobby was to be the one who was given the task of doing so. She begins to struggle but it is hopeless the combined weight of the two men outweigh her by over 100 pounds. She continues to struggle as they near the door to Victor's office. "Bobby," she says his name softly.

Martin releases his hold and opens the door hastily, it hits the wall. She sees Victor and Albert, she scans the room quickly, no Bobby.

The two men look up and are blatantly surprised. Alex tries to back up but Eric drags her into the room. "We found her in the cottage," Eric says as he tosses a cell phone to Albert. "She might have called someone."

Albert walks up to her and grabs her chin, "My dear Alex," he pinches in her cheeks, she tries to move her head away but she is unable.

_Bobby where are you? _

"Sweet, sweet Alex," he lifts her head up and she has to look in his eyes. Her first thought, spit in his face, she contains it. He moves his hand from her cheeks to her throat, "Why aren't you dead?" He squeezes on her neck, "Who are you?" She is unable and unwilling to answer, "You see Victor," he turns his head to catch Victor's eyes. "She is as I said, untrustworthy." He once again turns to face Alex. "Yes you are dirty and I will have to clean you." Alex does all she can not to faint. _Bobby, where are you?_ Tears roll down her cheeks when she blinks her eyes. Albert releases his hold on her neck and grabs her by the arm. He looks to Eric and Martin, "Find Bobby," he looks to Alex whose head is bowed down, "We'll take care of them at the same time." Albert turns to face Victor, "You have any objections to that?"

Victor can only shake his head.

**A/N: Depending on my mood Alex's fate has yet to be decided.**

**....BYE....**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

"Find him?" Eric asks coyly as he reaches into his jacket pocket for a cigarette, "He has to come back here eventually." His hand shakes slightly as he lights the cigarette. Martin nods his head as he passes Albert on the right motioning for Eric to give him a cigarette.

As Albert turns to face his subordinates, he absentmindedly releases his hold on Alex's arm. "You're afraid of him," he states, looking from Eric to Martin who have their heads bow downed, "Both of you."

The sound of the gunshot and Albert falling to the floor, for just a moment, cause everyone in the room to freeze. Before Alex has a chance to move, someone has an arm around her waist and that arm is pulling her out of the room; her feet practically leave the floor. "Don't talk," he says sternly as he takes a hold of her hand. He shuts the door with his foot, "Just run!"

She has a difficult time keeping up with his pace but she manages, they do hear a voice, bellow, "Don't just stand there, get them!" Bobby recognizes the voice, Victor.

"The Ferrari!" He exclaims as he releases his hold of her hand. The key is in the ignition and the engine is racing before she opens the front passenger door. First gear, second gear then third, tires screeching along the way. Once off the property he can see in the rearview mirror headlights behind them. "It's probably Eric and Martin. In Eric's car," his chuckle is a bit disturbing to her until he says, "Eric's VW." She joins him in the chuckle

Though a VW is in pursuit Alex grabs a hold of the dashboard as she watches the speedometer go higher and higher, "Bobby where are we going?" She asks with a shaky voice.

He changes lanes passing two cars as if they are standing still, "I have no idea." He changes lanes again and passes three cars, "Did you call Angela?" He manages to ask.

"What?" Her knuckles are turning white.

"Angela, did you call her?"

"Yes, I just disconnected the phone when they came in." She releases one hand from the dashboard shaking it, in the hopes that feeling in her hand will come back. She keeps a steady eye on the speedometer, "I….put a light on." She grabs the dashboard with two hands again.

"What?" He asks as he takes his eyes off the road before him for only a moment.

"I said I put a light on," she says regretting her actions. "Eric and Martin saw it, I didn't think anyone was outside, I'm sorry Bobby."

"Too late for apologies," he pats her arm gently, "It's alright, I mean forget it."

She turns her head to the rear of the car, "Bobby I think you've lost them." He continues at his current rate of speed, "Bobby! You can slow down now!" She says commanding. Slowly he releases the foot pressure on the gas pedal. He steers the car to the side of road and turns off the ignition.

He touches her arm, gently, "Are you alright?"

"Yes I'm fine." She releases her hold of the dashboard, reaches across her seat to his waiting arms.

"Are you sure? Did he do anything?" He kisses the top of her head.

"No," she shakes her head still in his embrace. "Bobby?"

"Yes," he squeezes her gently.

"Where were you?" she says slightly sobbing.

"I was on my way to the cottage to get you, as I came around the side of the house I saw you with Eric and Martin. I went into the house through the back door and got my gun."

"If you didn't go back…." She holds him tighter.

"Ok, it's over and you're safe," he pauses taking a gaze out the rear window. "I have to go back."

"What? Why?"

"Run, I have never run away from a confrontation in my life." He turns the key. "I'll drop you off at that diner, over there." He motions with his head toward the semi-crowded eatery.

She grabs his arm, "Start the car and drive there but I'm not getting out." She releases her hold on his arm and sits back crossing her arms in a defiant pose, "I'm going with you," she states plainly.

Shaking his head, "No you're not….I'm not going to argue with you." He bites his lip as he notices the determined look on her face, and the memory that she is a New York City Police Detective. She is about to retaliate but she stops as she watches him reach across her side of the car and open the glove box, "Here," he places a .32 on her lap. "Let's go Detective."

When they return to the mansion Angela, FBI agents and NYPD officers are everywhere. They walk through the crowd and enter the room that they recently fled, hand in hand. Albert's body covered with a sheet and Angela is sitting in Victor's chair sifting through the papers that lie on his desk. She looks up as she feels someone staring.

"Where were you?" Angela asks keeping her head down.

"We, ah went for a ride, with Eric and Martin following, where they end up is anyone guess, ah….they were small potatoes."

Angela continues to read the papers, she looks up and catches Bobby's eye. She smiles at the couple standing before her hand in hand; _I hope everything works out for them. _She returns to sight-reading the papers before her, "Everything is here," she picks up a few pieces of paper. "Everything we need to put these people away for ever." She sets the papers down as she sits back in the chair. "My God Victor was a methodical person, why he left a paper trail?" She shakes her head.

Bobby releases Alex's hand, "His ego and his cockiest was as big as Russia itself, he thought he was invincible and we as mere mortals would never be able to crush his operation," he pauses as he picks up a sheet of paper. "He thought he was always smarter and shrewder." Glancing at the paper quickly, "Victor's paranoia and insecurity is what brought down this organization. He spent more time worrying about who he could trust then taking care of business." Bobby walks toward a shelf set behind Angela. He pulls out two books as Alex and Angela watch him intently; he tosses one of the books on the desk, "Victor lived in the past."

The women scan the room quickly; they say simultaneously, "No computer."

Bobby nods is head as he continues, "Every transport of cargo, which he so lovingly called the girls are in these books, names, dates and...." he opens the book in his hand, "Photos of every girl that he ever brought over." He pauses for a minute as he scans through the photos. "This is how he picked his girls; he knew before hand who he wanted and who he did not."

Two agents are leading Victor out of the room, he catches Bobby's eye as he screams repeatedly, something is Russian.

"What did he say?" Alex asks.

"He said that if there was anyone who would and could bring him down, he's glad it was me." He takes a hold of Alex's hand, "Angela do you need us here?"

"No, but I want to see you Monday, my office at 9 am, you too Detective."

"We'll be there," he tugs on her arm gently. "Come on let's go."

As they turn to the right to leave the room, Alex notices the still, sheet covered body of Albert. She points as she turns her attention to Angela, "Albert was the killer of the four women, up in his bedroom are photos of all the girls and future ones. But I guess all that really doesn't matter now."

"Yes it does, justice," Bobby says as he leads her by the hand out of the room and out the front door.

"What do you do now?" Alex asks as they walk down the front steps.

He exhales, "Well first I usually go home and take a shower for about a week to remove the scum. Then I get dressed up, suit and tie, if you can imagine me in one?" He kisses her cheek when he notices her smile. "Go to Sharp's, for not only the biggest steak but the best, then I get drunk and sleep for a month." He opens the driver's side door of the Ferrari.

She laughs and understands, she may have worked undercover before but nothing like this an experience that she will remember forever. Alex frowns, "This is your car?" she asks remaining on the walkway.

He stands erect, as he closes the door, "Ah no, I don't have a car here." They both exchange a frown, "Cab." They say simultaneously. "Do you have the cell phone I gave you?"

"No, Albert took it."

"Shit," he says exasperated, "I'll be right back."

He returns moments later, "Cab is on the way," he says as he exits the home, "Let's walk down to the end of the driveway."

As they walk slowly down the long driveway hand in hand, Bobby asks, "So Alex, want to join me?"

"For dinner?"

He releases his hold of her hand and places his arm around her shoulder, "Well," he pauses. "I was thinking all of them."

She nods her head slowly, "Yes," she answers barely above a whisper.

He frowns, "What?"

She cuts him off, "You know, I have never, you know...after only knowing someone for ten days."

He would love to agree but he can't lie, he stops walking and turns to face her, "I meant what I said, I have never felt a connection with someone so fast and so intense before in my life." He caresses her cheek with his hand. She blushes slightly then she links her arm in his. They continue their journey down the long driveway.

"You made me feel safe but it was more than that you really seemed to care. And I have to admit that falling for someone like you was exciting."

"And now?"

She has to smile, "Well I am sort of relieved that you are not a criminal. Everyday I went through this scenario in my mind, Mom, Dad...Oh did I mention the fact that my father was a cop."

He starts to laugh, "So what? You were playing at being a rebel?"

"No, I did that in my twenties."

"Have some interesting stories to tell me?"

"No, not really, all in all I was a good kid, haven't changed that much." Her smile turns to a frown when not only does he remain silent she notices the white pallor on his face. "Bobby," she tugs on his arm, "What's the matter?"

He turns his head away gazing down the dark street, "Where the hell is that cab?"

"Tell me, what's the matter?"

He releases his hold and stuffs his hands deep into his pockets, staring out into space, "I ah...I never shot...I never killed anyone before and I'm ashamed to admit that it was...." He catches her eye, "It seemed too easy and it scares me a bit."

She caresses his cheek with her hand, "I can understand that, but let's say it plainly it was either him or us."

He takes a step back, "That's easy for you to say, have you ever shot anyone?"

"No I haven't and it is my hope that I never have to." She points to the left, "There's the cab, I think."

The headlights get closer, he takes her hand in his, "Yes it is." He escorts her the few feet toward the car, opening the rear passenger door for her. She enters the vehicle first and he follows close behind.

"Where to?" The driver asks.

"Good question," Bobby answers as he drapes his arm around her shoulder, "It's your choice."

"27 Beach Crest, Rockaway." Alex says quickly.

"You got it," the driver responds then switches the gear to drive.

She notices his frown, "I want to pick up a change of clothes, that's all." He flashes a broad smile as she adjusts herself in the seat, "When can I go back and get my stuff?"

"In a few days, Angela and her posse have a big house to search."

"Are you going back?"

"To search?"

"Yes."

"No, I just need to pick up my stuff." He slumps in the seat stretching his long legs as far as he can. "So how long have you lived in Rockaway?"

The familiarity and security of ones home has never been so inviting. Alex's home, decorated with soft tones gives off a feeling of warmth, not like his stark and mostly vacant apartment. They never left Alex's house that night, they ordered in a pizza, drank a few beers and fell asleep in each other's arm. Yes, ones living room rug and home made quilt do make for a comfortable slumber.

**A/N: It appears to me from the responses or lack of them, from the last chapter that many of you weren't upset that Alex may not survive this ordeal. I did toy with the idea of her demise for a bit but then decided NAH; I can't change my signature ending of happy.**

**Did I make the right choice? Because I still have the sad ending waiting in the wings.**

**That's all for now....**


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

"We sort of started this relationship in the middle, do you think we can go back and start from the beginning?" Bobby asks as he pours a spot of milk into the mug of black coffee set before him.

Alex cuts a pat of butter with a knife and begins to spread it on her second piece of wheat toast, "Well," she raises the slice of bread to her mouth then lowers it immediately, "There is only one way to find that out." She offers him a sweet smile, "Let's do it."

"Quick and decisive I like that." He uses a spoon to stir the coffee a few times. "So would you like to join me for dinner tonight at Sparks?"

She continues to chew her food, swallows then answers, "Yes, I would love to."

**That Evening**

When she opens the door that evening she has to do a double take at the man standing on her porch. "Bobby?" She asks with surprise in her voice.

He frowns, "Expecting someone else?"

"No, ah....it's just that you hair is shorter, your earring is gone," she says sadly. "And that suit, wow." Her eyes examine him, head to toe. "Blue is definitely your color."

"Thanks....ah....may I come in​?"

"Jesus," she places her hand to her forehead, "I'm sorry of course." She opens the door wider and he enters the home.

"Want a drink?" She asks as she closes the door.

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Just give me a minute, I'll be right back."

"Sure," he paces around the room coming to the realization that it has been almost three years since he has been on a date, _A date? Do they still call it that? _He chuckles softly. He catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror and stands before it straightening his tie, _Shit you didn't even tell her how good she looked. Man you are such an idiot. Alright, _he nods his head_. When she comes back, but be cool. _He tugs on his shirt sleeves.

She returns and he takes a long look at the women before him, her dress is black and sleeveless with just the right amount of cleavage showing. Legs that are trim, muscular but attractive. He rubs the back of his neck as he realizes that his silence and stare is making her a bit restless. "You, you look beautiful," he says sincerely.

A slight shade of red appears on her face, "Thank you."

He walks up to her and she of course has to look up, he leans in and lays down a gentle kiss on her cheek. He holds out his arm and she links her arm in his. They walk side by side across the room and out the front door.

Not that he compares the women in his life to Beth, with whom he had a twenty year affair, but she and Alex are a great deal alike. Even in appearance, except Beth stands at 5 foot 8.

**Spark's Restaurant**

**Manhattan**

"I was such a chicken shit I wouldn't even marry her. Even after Jess was born." He picks up the glass filled with wine that the waiter recently poured. "Hell it would probably be over by now anyway."

"Did she pressure you?"

Shaking his head, "No not at all, I knew she wanted to get marry. Every six months or so, she would bring it up."

"She kick you out?" Alex pats his hand, "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"I brought it up, and no, she didn't, I left. Thought I was being gallant, leaving so she could go on with her life and find someone else."

"Now she's bitter and you feel guilty."

"No, she remarried about three years ago and is very happy."

Alex frowns as she leans forward, "Then what is bothering you?"

"Jess, I get back home spend last night with you," he leans forward and caresses her cheek, "Which was very nice and tonight I'm having dinner with you."

"Bobby I'm sorry. I still don't see your problem."

"I'm afraid," he whispers then slaps his hand on the table, "Shit."

"Afraid?" Alex asks softly, "Afraid of what?"

"Eight months, it's been eight months since I've seen my daughter."

Alex tosses the roll, she recently removed from the bread basket, at him and it hits his chest, "Shame on you Bobby."

"Yeah, you're right," he brushes off the bread crumbs. "Shame on me. After the first month I was worrying about what to say when I see her. Then I got so deep into this assignment and before I realized it seven months had passed." He picks up the glass of wine that he has been twirling in his hand and takes a quick sip. He sets it down then sits back in his seat, head down. "Now its eight months." He rubs his eyes then continues, "I called her on her birthday and she was thrilled at the gift I got her. Never made the party."

"Did you promise her that you would be there?"

"No, I never promise her anything."

**The Home of Doug and Beth Granger**

He stands on the porch of the Brooklyn Cape Cod home, that once upon a time he occupied. The pit in his stomach is growing with each second that passes, he shuffles his feet like that of a teenage boy who, is for the first time, meeting his girlfriends parents. He presses on the button and hears the bell chime, not sure who he would rather see first, his daughter or Beth, her mother. The door opens, neither is standing before him, he forgot about Doug, Beth's husband. _Shit._

"I'm surprised you remembered where the house is." Doug says sarcastically.

"None of that is your concern, Doug." He hears Beth say from behind. Doug steps away from the door and Beth comes into view.

His ability to talk his way out of any situation is gone. His only response to seeing his former lover, "He does have a point."

She offers a slight smile then turns to take a quick glance at Doug, "He only knows what he knows." She opens the door wider, "Get in here."

He removes his hands from his pockets and walks with a bow downed head into the house. "So," Doug says as he paces around the living room, "When are you off on your next adventure?" Doug asks with a hint of sarcasm.

Bobby stands erect, "There isn't going to be a next adventure."

"You quit?" Beth asks surprisingly, "I don't believe it."

"Yes, I did." He states firmly.

The sound of a door opening then closing causes their heads to turn and look toward the stairs. She runs down the steps, she would fly if she could, "Daddy!" she screams happily. All his fears about how she would react; squashed like a bug. She runs toward him and being a man who has always been quick on his feet, mentally and physically is able to catch the 10-year girl in his arms.

"Come on," Beth grabs onto Doug arms and pulls, "Let's get something to drink."

They walk side by side into the kitchen, "She'll never do that for me."

Doug is a well-balanced, loving and hard working man, who teaches Physical Education at Canarsie High School, where Beth teaches art. However, he is as many men would be, a tad jealous at Bobby's career, something along the lines of a spy. Beth knows this, as any women would. She pours the bottle of soda she opened into a frosty mug. Not wanting to get into this discussion but she has to, "Doug, Jess likes you very much," she hands the mug to him. "I would even say that she loves you, but you will never take his place." She opens another bottle, "I do complain about him but he is a good man, who has in the past taken on the responsibility to clean up this country of evil that we don't even know exists."

Doug nods his head and they drink their sodas in a comfortable silence.

"I came by to apologize," Bobby says. "And to tell you that never again will more than a week pass that you won't see me. I have never made any false promises to you but this I promise."

"It's alright, I know…."

"No," he says excitedly and Jess gets slightly started. "It's not alright," he exhales then takes her hand, "Come on, let's sit down."

Beth and Doug return to the living room, Beth carrying a frosty mug of beer, she places it before him on the coffee table. "Jess went out with a girl named Cassie," Bobby says solemnly. Beth takes the spot next to him on the couch.

Doug clears his throat, "If you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for practice."

"Sure, sure," Beth says.

"Practice?" Bobby asks.

"Football practice," Beth answers as she watches Doug ascends the stairs then disappears. She turns her attention to a silent and still Bobby. "What happened, are you alright?"

"Thank you." He says then reaches forward to pick up the mug filled with beer.

She frowns, "Thank you, for what?"

"Well first the beer and everything else." He takes a short sip of beer. "You have so much to complain about and…."

"I would never talk to Jess about our problems Bobby, what happened between us is between us." She takes a sip of her beer, "Now complaining about you to Doug, well I have to admit that I have. You know I would have told you to your face but you weren't around," she says lightheartedly.

"You forgot about the regrets."

"What regrets?"

"Come on, be honest with me and be honest with yourself."

"Ok, let's see. First I don't regret meeting you or falling in love with you and never, ever do I regret, Jessica our," she emphasis the word. "Daughter." She sits back in the seat, then crosses her legs. "One thing about our relationship is that, aside from your job you and I have always been able to talk," she lightly nudges him on the side. "Talk to me Bobby."

He smiles, "She seemed happy to see me. Why?" he shrugs his shoulders. "I mean I haven't been around," shaking his head. "I don't understand."

"Jesus Christ," she says angrily. He catches her eye and frowns. "For an intelligent man, I swear sometimes you are such an idiot. You're her father…."

"Biologically maybe but….Doug."

She stands, "I am glad that Doug is here, for me and for her but he can't take your place is Jessie's eyes, you know that." His only response is a grunt. "You saw the way she flew down the stairs when she heard your voice."

"Yeah," he says sadly.

"Alright that's enough, this feeling sorry for yourself is not very becoming."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself, she shrugs it off just like I use to do, pretending that it didn't matter when he ignored me."

"We're talking about Jess, not you." She resumes her spot on the couch. "You know what she remembers about you, and that's the thing Bobby she has memories of you, good memories. Hell Bobby she's only ten, plenty of time to make new ones."

He scoffs, "Memories? What the hell are you talking about?"

She lightly pats his head a few times, "Don't you remember when you and Jess would get up early on Saturday morning, go out for breakfast then spend the entire day exploring the five boroughs. Most times I wouldn't see the two of you till dinner and by then you were both so tired you would usually camp out on the couch."

That memory makes him smile, his elation is short lived, "I just took her to places; a lot of people take their kids to museums, ball games, zoos, concerts."

"Yes you're right they do, it's not the places you went that she remembers and savors the memory," she pats his leg. He looks in her direction and catches her eye. "It's who she was with, you. You took the time to, well educate her without her knowing it. You never made it a chore."

"I did enjoy those Saturdays." He smiles remembering once again. "Can I take her for dinner tomorrow?"

Beth stands and he looks up, "Don't ask me, ask Jess," Beth points to the front door, "Here she comes."

**A/N: I mean who could stay mad at Bobby? Not me that's for sure.**

**That is all for Now.....**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Many thanks to those of you who have taken the time to send me a comment, the encouragement helped a great deal in wanting to continue this story. FYI....I would have continued anyway but it's nice to read what you have to say, thanks again. Here's chapter..........**

**Twelve**

"Dad, where are we going?" Jessie asks.

"I....ah....I want you to meet a friend of mine." He taps the turn signal and steers the car onto Beach Crest Road. "I asked her to join us for the day."

"A girlfriend?" she asks then giggles softly like a ten-year-old would.

He hesitates for a moment, "Yes, her name is Alex."

Jessie is painfully aware that her parents will never again be a couple but she is also happy to hear that her Dad has a girlfriend, he has never mentioned to her if there were any previously, she asks, "How long have you known her?"

"About a month, I might work with her." He steers the car onto the side of the road, pressing on the brake he stops the car. "It hasn't been set yet but it looks good."

Jess, sits back in the seat and crosses her arms over her chest, "Another assignment?" She asks sadly, then continues. "You said you were quitting," offering a pout.

He changes the gear from drive to park. "I am Jess, she's not an agent, she's a cop."

"A cop? You're going to be a cop," she sits up and a huge smile crosses her face, "Here in New York." She says excitedly.

"Yes," he nods his head. "I've been cleared to join the NYPD."

"Cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He reaches over and places his arm around her shoulder, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Is she like Mom?" she asks, sounding like an experienced interrogator.

"Why?" He sits up straight. "Is Doug like me?" He bites his lip, sorry that he asked the question. One thing that he and Beth have always agreed on and have stuck by, never involve Jessie in their problems.

"You and Doug alike?" she nods her head as she looks up at him, "A little." She notices his frown. "You're both tall," she lowers her gaze. "I like him Dad." she says shyly.

"Good, I'm glad you do," he takes her hand in his, "I like him too," he tugs gently on her arm, "Come on let's go."

Alex opens the door and is surprised but happy to see Bobby and without being introduced she knows it's Jessica. "Hi, Jessie, I'm Alex."

The little girl who, like her father hasn't a shy bone in her body, "Hi, Alex."

Alex opens the door wider and Bobby, who still has a hold of his daughter's hand, enter the room.

"Oh cool you have a bird," Jessie says as she walks closer to the bird's cage, "What's his name?"

"Polly."

Bobby taps Alex's arm, "I hope you don't...."

She cuts him off, finishing his sentence, "No I don't mind at all, where are we going?" She slips her arm into a denim jacket.

"The Zoo," he says softly.

"Really?" She nods her head in approval, "Sounds like fun," she walks toward Jessie, watching the young girl trying her best to get Polly to talk to her. "He only talks when he wants too, which is hardly ever."

The brown-eyed girl with hair to match, stands on tip-toe, "What does he say?"

"Usually he hits his beak on the mirror and says, pretty Polly."

Jessie laughs aloud along with Alex.

"Come on you two," Bobby says, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Jessie waves to the bird, "Bye Polly." The bird makes a sound that does sound like the word 'Bye' they all laugh.

**Later that Day**

"Thanks," Alex says softly not wanting to awaken Jessie, who fell asleep ten minutes into the ride back to Rockaway.

"Sure," he shrugs his shoulder, "For what?"

"For introducing me to your daughter. It was a fun day, been years since I've been to the Bronx Zoo." Alex leans across the seat and kisses him on the cheek. "Goodnight Bobby." She turns her body toward the door, before she can reach for the door handle Bobby lightly grabs her by the arm. He lays a kiss on her lips.

Caressing her cheek, "Goodnight Alex." They stare into each others eyes for what seemed like a lifetime, without speaking they can read what the other is thinking, yes the desire is there but they decided to work on the getting to know you part of a relationship. They kiss again, "See you tomorrow?"

She opens the car door, "Most definitely.

**A Week Later**

"Alex," Eric says as he nears her desk. "I've finally decided that 20 years is enough, I'll be leaving the force by the end of the month."

Not happy to see him go, however she understands. The crazy hours, the horrible sights and people to go along with them, they encounter day in and day out. She wraps her arms around his neck, "I'll miss you." She says sincerely, Eric McDaniel was a great partner, educated her without making it a chore.

The month was over and Alex walked into the Major Case Squad room, aware that her partner of two years would not be there this Monday morning. Deakins had informed her that there were three candidates with the credentials to fill Eric's shoes.

After her fill of morning coffee, she ventures toward the Captain's office, knocking as she opens the door.

"Morning Captain."

He looks up from the paper he is reading, "Alex," he says then sets the paper on the desk. "If you're wondering if I have made my decision, well I have." Alex frowns at the far away look on his face.

"Captain?"

Deakins stands, "He's here."

Alex turns and she does she a familiar face, _Bobby, what is he doing here?_ She stretches her neck to look behind him, there is no one.

"He was the most qualified, hell he's more qualified then I am but don't let that get around." Deakins says with a slight chuckle.

"Who is?" She turns to face Deakins, "You told me I was going to be senior partner."

"You are, he knows, it doesn't seem to bother him."

She opens the door and it hits the wall, she walks with a fast determined gait brushing past him.

He follows her, "Why do I get the feeling that you're pissed off at me."

"Because I am," she presses the button on the elevator. She keeps her focus forward. "Why couldn't you tell me."

"I wanted to surprise you."

The door opens and they step inside, she turns to face him, finding it hard to keep her anger up as she looks into those soft, warm brown eyes, she lowers her gaze, "Is this what our relationship will be like, secrets?"

"No," he says defensively as he moves a piece of hair behind her ear, "I have been living the life of so many different people for so long," he places his hand on her cheek. "I think I forgot that now is the time to trust someone."

She places her hand atop of his, "I understand," she says nodding her head slowly. "Why do I get the feeling that you may not always play by the rules."

He flashes a sly smiles as he winks at her, "Rules, rules are for lame ass, paper pushing…….."

She covers his mouth with her hand, "I get it, just wanted to clear the air." The door opens and she takes a step forward, two long strides and he is by her side. They walk side by side through the garage, "This is going to be a very interesting partnership, no doubt about that." Alex says as she removes the car keys from her pocket. Before she can react, he has them in his hand. She stops walking and taps his arm.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm driving."

"No, I am."

She stands still as she crosses her arms, "Don't want to pull rank but…." He tosses the keys and she catches them with one hand. She walks past him smiling. "Besides I've witnessed your driving first hand."

He stands motionless, "What is that suppose to mean? They never caught up with us."

She stops walking and turns to face him, "Bobby the guy was in a VW you," she points her finger at him. "Had a Ferrari, did you really have to drive over 90."

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, smiling like a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "That was pretty cool you have to admit that?" She does not answer, "Come on Alex admit it, it had your heart pumping and…."

"Yes my heart was pumping, I thought I was going to have a heart attack and my hands were numb from grabbing the dashboard," this time he remains silent crossing his arms on his chest. She offers a silly smirk, "Ok, ok it was thrilling I will admit that, but…."

"Ok, ok. Next time we get into a situation like that…." He snatches the keys from her hand with one quick move, "You can drive." He opens the drivers side door, "But now I'm driving." He starts the car and she has not moved. Opening the front passenger window, he calls out. "What is this obsession you have with driving?" He asks, completely aware that she has no answer. He turns off the car, removes the keys and exits the vehicle. He walks with a slow gait toward her, he holds the keys out and she shows him her palm, he drops the keys and she catches them.

"I just like to drive." She says as she walks toward the car.

He follows a few steps behind, "That's a good answer." He enters the vehicle, "Alex?"

She places the key into the ignition then turns the key, "Yes Bobby."

"Exactly where are we going?"

She changes the gear shift from P to R, backing up slowly, "I have no idea."

**Yes the story is over however any ideas where they should go, her place, his place?**


End file.
